


Show and Tell

by Buglii



Category: Hello Puppets (Video Game)
Genre: Hello Puppets!, Horror, Other, Puppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buglii/pseuds/Buglii
Summary: He finally caught the fucker, the ringleader of the puppets, and now he's storming The New York time to share his discovery.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Show and Tell

Anthony was in a haze of his own adrenaline. The events leading up to him entering the lobby of The New York Times felt like a blur, but it didn't matter. He fucking did it, he finally had evidence of the supernatural.

Rattling inside the carrier was his proof; the vile mastermind behind the disappearance of several people in the area. He managed to swipe the elderly puppet off the poor bastard he was leeching off of, and fling him into the cage with moderate effort. After that, he ran as far away as he could from that hellhole, ready to present his findings to the right people.

The secretary tried to call out and stop him, but he barged right into the newsroom. He scanned the sea of cubicles, trying to find the right person to expose his discovery. Sure enough, the office of the chief editor was open with a surly looking man immersed with his work.  
  
“Sir!” He stormed right into his office, unaffected by the harsh glare the chief editor greeted him with.”Sir, I just need a moment of your time-”   
  
“Just who do you think you’re supposed to be?” The gruff man barked back at him, “You can't come in here without an appointment, and I know damn well I don't have any right now."

"Oh, well that's perfect! That means you're free right now!" He was about to take a seat until he felt the hand of the secretary who followed him. "I'm so sorry Sir, I tried to stop him but he-"

"Why would you want to stop me?" Anthony snapped back, "Your whole operation is supposed to help get the word out there, and the 'word' inside this cage really needs to be fucking said-"

"Alright **enough!** " The chief editor waves his hand, trying to quell the two. "Look, if it's that big of an emergency then I'll give you a minute, but could you at least tone down your language?"   
  
Anthony nodded, taking his seat while the editor shooed away the secretary. Resting the carrier on his lap, his fingers drumming impatiently. "Okay, so I'm going to need you to take everything I say with an open mind from here on out. Hell, I couldn't believe this myself when I first-"

"Look, just skip to the point before getting heavy with the details." The chief editor groaned, "I don't have a lot of time right-"

"The rising number of missing persons cases, I know who's behind it!"

The chief editor paused; his anger slowly fading into a look of concern. He moves the papers on his desk to one side and crosses his hands together. "That's a pretty big claim you're making there sir, how do you even know they're all connected with each other?"

"Because I _saw_ them!" Anthony's knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the carrier. "I saw people, _live_ people! They were heavily drugged, stuffed into body bags and hung like rows of meat in a walk-in freezer. They were being processed and stored like-"

"Wait, just…" the gruff man rubbed at temples. The look on his face told the investigator that this man was already beginning to doubt him. "You're getting off track again, _where_ did you see this all happening and _who_ do you know is responsible."

"The abandoned Handeemen HQ," Anthony said with confidence, unlocking the carrier and getting ready to release the culprit. "And I have the fucker responsible right here…"

"The abandoned handee-what?" The editor didn't get a chance to finish as Anthony shook the carrier upside down. He flinched as the puppet from inside fell face first and laid lifeless on the desk.

A long pause followed; both men staring silently at the inanimate humanoid. Anthony's rage was beginning to set in, this abomination was clearly playing dead to make him look crazy. The editor took a pen from his desk and poked the side of its wooden head, revealing the face of a wide-eyed gentleman with an unhinged grin.

"Okay, I know what you're probably thinking right now," Anthony spoke up to continue his case, "but I promise you, he...that THING is a parasite! It's been feeding off humans along with the other puppets at his control, and it's all because his dumb-ass creator thought it would be a good idea to play God!"

The editor gave a harsh sigh as he stopped prodding at the toy. "Well I gotta hand it to you, this has been one of the more interesting nights I've had recently. I mean we get a lot of crackpots like you, but you certainly got a good imagination rattling around in there."

Anthony felt like he was going to lose it pretty soon. He did not just risk his life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere to be made a fool of. "I am not imagining this dammit! He's a fucking monster!"

He grabs Mortimer and begins to violently shake him, trying to uncover his act. "You think this is funny, you dandy fuck? You think you can make me look like an idiot? I SAW YOU-"

"Sir, you need to keep your voice down, other people are trying to work here!" The editor commanded. "And I already warned you about the language, so knock it off or I'm going to have my secretary call security!"

Anthony shared his glare with both the editor and the puppet in his hands. The sight of Mortimer's menacing smile only fueling the rage he had to contain. The editor rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his patience beginning to drip away. 

"So you're telling me the toy in your hand," the editor points with his pen, "along with a bunch of other puppets like him, are actually some sort of magic parasite, right?

Anthony was about to snap again, but the editor raised his hand; "Let me finish. I'm trying to hear you out, but I'm going to need you to be more patient."

The investigator leaned back in his chair as The editor continued. "So how do you know it's not just some sort of weird cult full of puppeteers? Why didn't you bring one of these so-called 'hosts' with you instead of a puppet? I'm sure they would have more to say than your little friend there…"

"What part of _'parasite'_ are you not understanding here? They drain the **life** from their **hosts**!" Anthony gripped at the puppet's arms as he trembled in frustration. "The people that they put themselves on are no longer in control! When I ripped Mortimer off his host, he dropped dead while the puppet was trying to claw its way out of the carrier!"

Anthony watched the chief editor stand up and make his way to the carrier on the ground. He watched as the man picked up the plastic cage to examine it, eventually turning it around for the investigator to see. Despite the struggle he so clearly remembered, the inside was completely free of any damage.

"Must not have been all that strong...looks like a brand new cage too." The chief editor chuckled, placing the cage back on the ground. "So aside from that puppet, what other proof do you have for this story of yours?"

"...Photo evidence!" Anthony remembered, "I have proof, actual photos of one of the other puppets! One of them has been concocting these horrible experiments on…" His voice began to trail off as he made the horrible realization that all of his other evidence was still inside the abandoned warehouse.

"You don't have them here, do you?"

The investigator had reached his breaking point. Instead of an eruption of anger, he sat there frozen in awareness of his mistakes. He sold the car for the cage, but in doing so, he had no way of ever getting back to get the rest of his findings. He had no way to contact anyone else for a ride, and there was no way the man in front of him was going to offer him more than an ear.

He had gambled everything to expose a true supernatural entity, and he was losing.

The chief editor turned away from him, facing a painting on the wall while he gave the younger man his time to reflect. "Oh dear...just what on earth are we going to do with you?"

For the first time in forever, Anthony could feel tears beginning to seep from his eyes. He felt so helpless from all the horrors he was exposed to, but no one would be able to stop the madness from happening. If only he were more organized, if he didn't begin to doubt the supernatural and put his all into it, then maybe he could have saved everyone.

"Oh don't start crying now," the chief editor said, his back still turned. "C'mon now, that's no way for a grown man to act."

Anthony tried his best to wipe away the tears with his sleeve. Laying his arm back on the armrest, something peculiar caught his attention.

The damp spots of his sleeve were colored.

Vibrantly colored; a viscous stain of white and blue was smeared as if he just wiped a mix of ink and glue off his face. Touching his cheek with the other hand resulted in the same result on his fingers. It baffled him, but he kept quiet as he examined the strange substance.

"As much as it's going against my better judgment, I can't help but feel bad for you." The editor spoke in a softer tone. Anthony didn't look up; too transfixed on the strange liquid dripping onto his hands. 

"The truth is, I've been in your situation before. I've wanted to believe in something that I knew deep down was real…" He could hear the chief editor slowly walk back to his desk to sit down. "But this world is run by cold facts and logic. Killing off any possibility of believing the extraordinary with their little theories and evidence to back it up."

Anthony slowly looked up to the other man. Something about his face was alarmingly different; it looked as though he was caked with a heavy layer of makeup, the shadows and subtle details of his face brushed on.

"It's not a pleasant world we live in, Anthony…" he said with a growing smile, "Which is why I really want to believe you."

The investigator wanted to say something, but the words never came. He was too dazed by the black of the editor’s eyes beginning to bleed through the iris and sclera. It was disturbing, but the calm voice that he spoke with kept him from reacting.

"I...I don't have any evidence…" Anthony muttered.

The chief editor gestured his hand to Mortimer; "You have your friend there."

Anthony lifted the puppet up, he seemed to be unaffected by the mess his tears were making on everything else. His gut was screaming at him to leave, but all he could do was stare at Mortimer.

"That's...that's not a good idea."

"Well, I would try him on myself," the editor said, his lips now spilling a smooth, pink liquid from his mouth. "But you'd probably feel bad getting a stranger involved in this mess, wouldn't you?"

The entranced investigator nodded, looking back to Mortimer as the editor continued talking " _I want to believe your stories, Anthony. I want you to show me you're telling the truth._ "

It was like his body was going against his mind, his heartbeat pounded into his ears as a plea to stop. But despite his efforts, he couldn’t stop his trembling left hand from slipping into the empty void within the puppet. His eyes clenched, anticipating a painful experience... 

Seconds passed...he felt nothing.  
  
As he opened his eyes again, he saw Mortimer on his left arm, completely motionless. The paint-like substance that was dripping from his face was nowhere to be seen.   
  
_“There, you see? That wasn’t so tough,”_

  
Anthony looked back up...and nearly had a heart attack.   
  
The man had been replaced with Mortimer; A heavily splintered, life-sized rendition of the puppet. His eyes were hollow, black oozing from the carved man’s sockets and grizzly smile. His creaking voice chilled Anthony to the very core;   
_  
_ _“You’ve proved to me that you’re good enough.”_

  
The horrific apparition decayed in front of him, crumbling into an oozing pile of tar and wood chips. Anthony fell out of his seat trying to back away, quickly noticing that his left arm had begun to melt off.   
  
“Oh god, oh god WHAT THE FUCK?”

  
 ** _“LANGUAGE.”_** _  
__  
_The booming voice shook the room. From above, he could see the ceiling begin to drip. The walls and everything around him began to melt and dissolve into itself. He tried to get himself back up, trying his hardest to run against a floor that was beginning to give out like mud.  
  
 _“You can’t run, what’s done is done…”_ _  
_ _  
_He could see the door out of here. If he could just reach that fucking door before he sank into the floor, then there might be a chance.  
  
 _“You took one last gamble…”_  
  
With as much strength as he could muster, Anthony’s body slammed through the door. He didn’t have time to react to the black void that awaited him.  
  
 _“But I’ve already won.”_ _  
_ _  
_As Anthony felt himself fall and tumble into the abyss, he could see a faceless version of himself waving goodbye to him from the steps. The smile of the parasite on his left arm fading farther away from sight the further down his sentience sank.  
  
 _Seconds would pass...he would feel nothing._


End file.
